


rhythm & melody

by owlinaminor



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Music, musicians au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2017-02-08
Packaged: 2018-09-22 20:42:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9624515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlinaminor/pseuds/owlinaminor
Summary: Goshiki has asked Hinata to play a duet with him.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rarepairenabler](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rarepairenabler/gifts).
  * Inspired by [romance 'n' all that jazz](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7814065) by [rarepairenabler](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rarepairenabler/pseuds/rarepairenabler). 



> happy birthday amber!!!!! i hope this little fic in the world of romance n' all that jazz will make you smile.
> 
> unbeta'd, because becky has a ridiculous bedtime.
> 
> and the piece they're playing is [blue monk](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aikuS_2kVQs).

Goshiki is early.

He’s always early – Shouyou should expect this by now, should know that between five and ten minutes before they agreed to leave, Goshiki will show up at his door with his old purple backpack slung over one shoulder and a wide grin splitting his face.  Shouyou should expect this, but he’s still taken aback by the sound of his doorbell, chiming evenly as though to say, _you’re so la-ate, you’re so la-ate._

“Co-mungh!” Shouyou shouts through a mouth full of toothpaste.  He spits, rinses, and rushes to his front door, pulling on a T-shirt as he goes.

Goshiki is not only early – he’s brought breakfast.  Shouyou’s gaze falls first on the paper bag (smelling of cinnamon sugar) in one of his boyfriend’s hands, then travels to the violin case in the other, then the backpack on his shoulder, then his faded green jacket, then the hair falling in perfectly combed bangs, then the grin on his face.  Reliable as the sun.

Goshiki’s smile wilts slightly as he waits for Shouyou to say something.  It’s been… quite a few seconds, Shouyou realizes.  He’s been ogling.

“Hi!” he exclaims.  “Sorry I was late!”

“Ah, I was early,” Goshiki replies.  He steps through the doorway, and once the door is safely closed behind him, Shouyou leans up to peck him on the cheek.  Goshiki turns his head, catches Shouyou’s mouth in a kiss – and Shouyou distractedly compliments himself for not having time to comb through his bedhead, since Goshiki is just messing his hair up more now.

Both boys are breathless when they step back.

“I, um, brought donuts,” Goshiki says.  He holds up the brown bag – now wrinkled and a bit damp from sweat at the top.

“You’re the best!” Shouyou tells him.  “How’d you know I hadn’t eaten breakfast yet?”

“You didn’t answer my ‘we still on for today?’ text until twenty minutes ago.”

“Right.”  Shouyou sighs.  “I can’t believe you sent that at eight-thirty in the morning.  How can you get up that early?  On a _Saturday?”_

Goshiki shrugs.  “If Ushijima-senpai can get up early to go for a long run every Saturday, so can I.”

Shouyou stares at his boyfriend for a long moment, then sighs and reaches out for the bag.  “You're insane.  But we can debate that _after_ I eat."

* * *

Once Shouyou has sated his grumbling stomach (he devours three donuts in two minutes while Goshiki looks on with amazement), the two musicians set to work.

Goshiki is performing a solo concert at his school the next weekend, and he asked Shouyou to play a duet with him.  Shouyou protested at first, reminding Goshiki that he’d vowed never to play anything written before 1930 – and yeah, he’s broken that vow a couple of times since they started dating, but all of those were within the privacy of his own apartment, not somewhere _public_ where Tanaka could easily hear about it and mock him for the rest of his _life._

But then, Goshiki explained that he’d chosen a piece, it was a jazz piece, it was a trumpet and violin duet, it was written after 1930… And Goshiki had opened his eyes really wide and said that he really wanted everyone at his school to see how talented his boyfriend is… And, well, it was pretty hard for Shouyou to say no to that.

So, here they are, reading through an old Thelonious Monk standard together in Shouyou’s apartment on a Saturday morning.  The piece is nothing difficult – a slow blues melody that reminds Shouyou of long strolls in the park or quiet nights of hanging out with old friends.  He and Goshiki are able to play it together without much problem, once Goshiki gets the hang of swinging eighth notes.

Improvising over the chord progression, however, is another story.

“What does this mean?” Goshiki asks, glowering at his music as though it just told him he’ll never get to be concertmaster.

“Oh, the letters?” Shouyou replies.  “They stand for chords.  B-flat, E-flat, F –”

“I know _that,_ I’ve taken music theory,” Goshiki cuts him off.  “But why are they _here?_   I don’t know what I’m supposed to play.”

“Oh, that’s the fun part!” Shouyou exclaims.  “You’re not supposed to know – you’re supposed to improvise!”

Goshiki stares at him blankly.

“It’s like…”  Shouyou tries to remember how he first learned to improv, back in high school.  “You take all the notes in the chords you’re given, right, and you think of a rhythm that fits with the feeling of the piece, and you play!  You’re projecting your own extension of the main melody.  And you get to show off.”

“Projecting your own extension of the main melody,” Goshiki repeats.  “There’s nothing like that in classical music.”

“Yeah, that’s why jazz is better.”  Shouyou smiles – and narrowly keeps himself from laughing when Goshiki glares at him.

“I can demonstrate for you,” Shouyou says.  He points to his keyboard, pushed up against a window looking out over the nearby park.  “Play the chords written in the improv section, and I’ll improv over them.”

Goshiki seems skeptical, but he sets down his violin, pulls over one of Shouyou’s folding chairs, and switches on the keyboard, as instructed.

“Ready?” he asks.

“Whenever you are!”

Goshiki starts playing fifths.  Shouyou looks again at the chords: concert B-flat, concert E-flat, concert F.  He starts on a low note, swings a few eighth notes in a scale, begins to climb – trills a little, just for fun – plays an arpeggio down and then back up – and soon he’s found his rhythm.

He closes his eyes, stops thinking of the chords, and imagines himself in the piece.  He imagines wandering through the park with Goshiki, listening to Goshiki talk about his orchestra and his classes and his friends, their linked hands dancing through the evergreen trees.  He imagines a long evening at his apartment, sprawled next to Goshiki on the couch, talking through a shitty horror movie.  He imagines a warm morning like this one, waking up to sunlight and cinnamon donuts and the feeling that it’s okay to go slowly every once and a while, because the journey is better than the arrival.  He imagines afternoons and evenings and mornings stretched out into an eternity more golden than the bell of his trumpet.

It takes Shouyou two choruses to notice that he’s lost his accompaniment.

He opens his eyes, lowers his trumpet, and turns to look at Goshiki – Goshiki is gazing right back.

“Your cheeks puff out and get all red when you play,” Goshiki says.  “It’s… it’s really cute.”

Shouyou tosses his trumpet on the bed and crosses to the keyboard in two determined strides.  Goshiki has to pay, for saying something like that.  Shouyou’s going to make _his_ face turn so red, it’s bordering on purple.

Goshiki does, eventually, learn how to improvise… but not for another two hours.

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/owlinaminor) / [tumblr](http://owlinaminor.tumblr.com/)


End file.
